


Impossible, Implausible, and Everything in Between

by madameofmusic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Content Warning: Ritualistic Slaughter of Cattle and canon-typical violence, F/M, M/M, Team Free Will Big Bang 2014, UA- No Angels or Demons, Universe Alteration, not a lot of sam/sarah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2957888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/pseuds/madameofmusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a young girl goes missing, and a string of murdered cattle lead the Winchester brothers to a small town, they'll find more than they bargained for.<br/>A druid, a familiar, and an ancient witch who'd love nothing more than their heads on a silver platter.<br/>So basically, a typical Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible, Implausible, and Everything in Between

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay here it is, my big bang entry for the [Team Free Will Big Bang](http://tfwbigbang.livejournal.com/). A heads up: the backstories of the characters in here are altered quite a bit. I've added what I changed in the endnotes if you want to know what I've changed before you read it.

Dean Winchester hated witches with a passion. He would have rather fought ten dozen vampires, or a goddamn minotaur before fighting another witch. He hated their dumb spells and the way they just had to be that much worse than anything else he had to deal with on a daily basis.

That being said, when it came down to it, he’d still fight them, especially when it included a missing teenage girl the dumb witch probably took as tribute to her dark lord or something dumb like that. Witches, man. They were dumb.

“-and there’s been six reports of slaughtered cattle in a fifty mile radius since last weekend,” Sam read, papers propped up on his knees as Dean drove.

“Sorry, what was that?” Dean asked, flicking his eyes over to Sam, catching his brother’s rather dramatic eye roll. Sometimes he swore Sam was better meant for reality TV with all the bitching he did on the regular.

“I said that on top of weird weather, there’s been six reports of slaughtered cattle within a fifty mile radius of the town.” Sam repeated, waving a newspaper in the air.

“And no one thought to stop for a second and ask themselves if this was normal or not?” Dean asked, thoroughly frustrated already.

“The local authorities are chalking it up to kids trying to be “edgy”,” He said, fingers curling into air quotes. “There’s nothing too cult-like about them, past the evisceration and the blood draining,” Sam said, shrugging. “I guess if you don’t carve a pentagram into it, it’s just a harmless prank.”

Dean snorted, muttering about idiotic law enforcement as he drove. Sam was quiet for a few moments longer, before speaking. “Do you really think the witch took the girl with her?”

Dean tapped his fingers against the wheel. “Yeah. I mean, they didn’t find the body, we didn’t find a body, and the parents said she would have never run away on her own,” Not that that’s much of a reliable source. “That or she is the witch,” He joked.

“But why? I’ve never heard of a witch just taking someone for more than a few hours. What is she going to do with her, save her for her oven?” Sam said, frowning. “It doesn’t add up, is all I’m saying. So they found some creepy old junk spellbooks in her room. They were fake to begin with. Maybe the missing girl and the animal killings don’t have anything to do with one another,”

Dean leveled Sam an unimpressed look. “Really, Sammy? When, in our entire lives, have two events like this not been connected? C’mon man, it doesn’t matter why anyway. All it matters is that we find the son-of-a-bitch and gank it before it does anything else.”

Sam sighed. “I dunno Dean. Something just doesn’t ring right with me.”

Dean reached over and clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Stop worrying so much. This is just another job.”

Sam shifted in his seat. “I guess. It’s just so weird, you know? Straight laced girl goes missing from home, with no sign of forced entry or struggle and a bunch of fake occult stuff, parents who say she wouldn’t have run away, and all in the same town where ritualistic cattle murder has been going down for a week prior. It just doesn’t add up, I guess.”

Dean sighed. “Look, maybe our girl really did leave. Maybe she wasn’t as goody-two-shoes as her parents said she was, thought she’d run off and join the circus as a palm-reader. Not like it hasn’t happened before.”

“That’s just too weird of a coincidence.” Sam said, shaking his head. “Girls going missing and dead cows being slaughtered and sacrificed to Satan don’t usually end up being separate.”

Dean shrugged. “Look. We’ll work the case with the dead cows, figure out what’s going on there. If, by the end, our missing girl is still AWOL, we’ll scour the town again.”

Sam nodded. “Alright.”

After checking into a motel, Dean found himself at the only mall in town. As per usual for malls in small towns, it was teeming with people going from shop to shop, enjoying the summer sun. Dean had situated himself in a corner table where he could see the most of the small outlet centre.

Sam was in the library, looking at past records of the town, trying to find any evidence of something like this happening before. Dean had opted for people watching, because at least if he couldn’t find a witch, he still wouldn’t be researching. Research was his least favourite part of a hunt. If asked how he’d describe himself, he’d call himself a “shoot first, ask questions about what it is he just shot2 later” kinda guy, and in fact had been guilty of that on several occasions.

He’d been watching a girl for the better half of an hour. She looked young, maybe seventeen or eighteen, and she had been lingering by the entrance of an alley for as long as Dean had been watching her, flinching at everyone that passed and hand going to her hoodie pocket every once in awhile. Her look didn’t really scream “I like to cut up cows and kidnap children,” but her behaviour certainly wasn’t normal.

The girl spotted him, and straightened, before slipping down the alley. Dean cursed and stood, throwing money on the table for the coffee he ordered and following her.

He reached for the knife in his jacket pocket and pulled it out as he turned the corner. He came face to face with the girl, and she looked terrified.

“Look, I-” She started, voice wavering as she spoke to him.

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing hiding in a back alley way?”

“They said you’d be- uh, you’d be waiting for me. And that I’d just have watch for you and I’d know who you were.” She said, words spilling quickly from her lips.

“What, so this is some sort of trap?” Dean growled, and stepped forward, making the girl stumble and fall against the back wall.

“Stop.” A low, gravelly voice rang out in the alleyway. A hand grabbed his wrist, and Dean half turned, meeting the eyes of a man.

His brow furrowed, and wrenched his hand from the man’s grip. “Who’re you?”

The man stepped around Dean, and touched the girl on the forehead, seeming to freeze her where she stood.

“What the fuck?” He asked, pointing to the girl. “Are you the bastard who’s been killing cattle?” Dean asked, knife raised threateningly as he stepped forward.

The man chuckled low in his throat and shook his head. “No. I’m not the witch you want.” He said. “And neither is she.”

“How am I supposed to trust what you say? Is she working for you?”

“She’s not working for me.” The man said, staring at the girl for a second before chuckling lowly.

“What’s she doing then? What are you doing?”

“She’s selling pot.” The stranger plucked a bag from her jacket pocket, and rolled it between his fingers before making it burst into a quick flame. “Now, unless you want to turn her in for that, which with your track record, hunter, I’d get out of here.” The man pressed his fingertips against her forehead once more, and the girl dropped, slumping against the wall.

“She’ll be fine. Wake up a bit groggy and probably wonder what the hell happened, but past that, she won’t remember a thing. Not me, not you, not you pulling a knife on her.” The stranger slipped past Dean and walked back out of the side alley, hands in his pockets.

“Hey, get back here I’m not-” Dean found the man nowhere to be found, and growled, sliding the knife back into place. He supposed they had found their witch, though why he had just stood there and taunted Dean instead of trying to kill him, he had no idea.

And if that wasn’t the weirdest witch he’d ever seen too. The man just… made things happen without any spells. There was definitely something fishy going on.

Sam was laughing. “She tried to sell you drugs?”

Dean huffed, and flipped his brother off. “Whatever. Yes.”

Sam laughed harder. “And you thought she was the witch.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes. Now can we focus on the fact that I found the real witch? Please? Because that seems a little more important than your amusement, Sammy.”

Sam sobered, though his lips twitched occasionally as Dean finished his story. “That’s weird.” he said, frowning as Dean finished telling him about the strange man. “He didn’t try to kill you?” He asked.

“No. He just wiped her memories I guess, and then walked away.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t a demon?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair and frowning, all traces of humour gone from his expression, replaced by pensive thought.

“Yes dammit. I checked for sulfur after he left. I’m not an idiot, Sam.” Dean replied, frustration creeping into his tone.

“Alright.” Sam reached over and grabbed his laptop. “I’ll start looking through town records, look for anything suspicious. You go drive around and see if you can find him.”

Dean nodded, agreeing to the plan, and went to find his keys.

Sam called him a few hours later, just as it was getting dark out. “So get this-” He started, before Dean cut him off.

“Does this have to do with the weird cabin way out on the edge of town?” He asked, looking through the trees at said cabin. He had almost driven past the small road, just happening to catch a mailbox in the overgrowth, and stopped to look. It was the most stereotypical of fairy tale cottages possible, and he was almost disappointed. Couldn’t the witch have come up with something a little less normal?

“...Yes?” Sam said, confused. “How did you know?”

“Because I’m looking at it right now. It doesn’t look like anyone is home.”

“Right. Well. It’s registered under the name “Castiel Novak.” Kinda weird, right?” Dean hummed his agreement, pulling away from the road and heading back to the motel. “This guy moved here three years ago, and apparently is some sort of model citizen. He volunteers at the hospital, and the pet shelter, and won an award for upstanding citizen.”

Dean frowned. “Really? You’re sure there’s not maybe another Castiel Novak in town?” He asked, knowing already that there wasn’t.

He heard a sigh from the other end. “Yes, Dean, I’m sure. He even matches the description you gave me.”

“Huh. Well, not really the normal MO for a witch, but hey. Maybe he’s under cover.”

“Well, whatever he is, we still need to find out why he’s in town and why he knew what we were here for.”

After promising to be there in no more than ten minutes, Dean hung up. This was strange, but then again, when was anything they did normal?

The inside of Castiel’s house, as it turned out, looked just as much like it belonged in a fairy tale on the outside. The walls were covered in dark bookshelves stuffed to the brim with books in other languages, and the ceiling was covered in hooks, of which strands of herbs and plants hung off of. Sam was having a field day.

“Dean, look! An entire collection on Ancient Roman magical practice!” Sam whispered, looking over at his brother with wide eyes. Dean returned the look with a scoff.

“C’mon Sammy, knock off the nerd crap. We’re here to find out if he’s dangerous or not.” Dean whispered back, using his flashlight to pan against the room.

“Dean, he has a minotaur tusk!” Sam said from behind him, and he could hear his brother clinking around.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s from the Labyrinth.” Dean and Sam both froze, and followed the voice to the entryway into what looked like the kitchen.

“Uh.” Dean lowered his flashlight, staring at the man in the doorway. Castiel was leaning against the frame, looking at both of them with a vague disinterested look.

“Come in here. I have tea.” He said, before turning back into the kitchen from where he came.

Sam and Dean shared a look, before Sam shrugged and followed, Dean a few, reluctant, steps behind him.

Castiel was standing over the stove, pouring water into three mugs. “Please, take a seat.” He said, gesturing to a table tucked into the corner. On it was a scattering of books, some a in languages neither Sam nor Dean recognised.

Castiel brought over the three teacups, and set one in front of each of the Winchesters, before sitting down himself. “You know, it’s not very nice to break into someone’s home. You’re lucky I figured you’d be coming and took the wards down, otherwise you’d be in a world of pain.” Castiel said, sipping from his teacup.

“Is that a threat?” Dean asked, leaning forward and brandishing his knife.

“No? Are you unfamiliar with how wards work Dean Winchester?” Castiel asked, mouth straight but eyes crinkled in amusement. He reached across the table, and touched Dean’s knife, making it go limp in his hand, like it had been turned to plastic. “No knives at the table, please.”

Sam snickered, and Dean glared at him, tossing the knife away in disgust. “You keep saying you’re not a witch, and yet you keep doing shit like this!”

“I’m not a witch.”

“Then what are you?” Sam asked, staring at Castiel, as if he could figure out what the man was just by looking at him.

“A druid.” Dean cast a confused glance at Sam, but his brother was still staring at Cas, except now he looked like the witch- druid, whatever, had just given him a thousand dollars to a bookstore.

“I didn’t know there were still druids around.” Sam said, sounding excited. “That explains so much Dean!”

Dean threw up his hands. “Like what?”

Castiel watched them over the edge of his teacup, amused. “Like the fact that he doesn’t need any spells to do magic.”

The brothers stared at one another, Castiel assumed talking in some way only they knew, before they angled themselves back in his direction. He set his cup down, and folded his hands on his lap.

“So… Castiel, right?” Sam asked, and Castiel nodded. “Why are you here?”

“He means why the fuck didn’t you know about the witch.” Dean cut in, folding his arms across his chest.

Castiel tilted his head, looking at the elder Winchester. “I do know about the witch.”

“If you know about it, why haven’t you done anything?” Sam asked. “You’ve gotta be powerful enough to take it down, right?”

Cas shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I haven’t been able to get in quick enough to any of the animals they’ve sacrificed, nor have I been able to find them.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do really, I suppose.”

Dean glared at him. “Unless you’re actually the witch and you’re just trying to pull one over on us. We’re not that dumb, you ba-”

Sam cut him off with a kick to the shin. “Sorry. Witches make him nervous.” He whispered conspiratorially to Castiel.

“I am not nervous!” Dean scoffed, and Castiel laughed.

“It’s alright. I’d like to help you, if you’d want my help. I want her out of town as much as you do.”

“Why’s that?” Sam asked, curious as to why Castiel would even care.

“I would like to think of this town as… under my protection, of a sorts. While she’s here, she’s just going to cause stress and undue chaos. I think I would like to avoid that.”

Dean stood abruptly, chair screeching against the floor and making Castiel wince. “I think it’s time for Sammy and I to leave.”

“But-”

“We’ve really got to get going on this whole witch business. It won’t kill itself, right?” He steps out and leaves the room, and the sound of the front door slamming behind him is heard a few moments later.

Sam stood as well, and shrugged at Castiel. “Sorry. And uh, thanks for the tea, I guess.” Castiel waved his fingers in a goodbye, and Sam left, shutting the front door much quieter than his brother.

Sam stormed out to the car and swung open the door, making the metal of the Impala screech, and Dean inside the vehicle wince. “What the hell was that, Dean?” Sam practically yelled as he got in, facing Dean and looking furious.

Dean gripped the wheel, and pulled out onto the road. “I don’t like him.”

Sam threw up his hands. “Why the hell not? He wants to help Dean, and he’s certainly not evil-”

“Oh, what, so now you can tell what’s evil and what isn’t? Did you gain some sort of telepathic power while my back was turned?”

“Dean, you’re being ridiculous right now. Do you even hear yourself?” Sam slumped back against the seat with his arms folded tightly. “He’s a druid Dean. They’re peaceful.”

“Yeah, and werewolves are just puppies. Bullshit, Sam. He’s a friggin’ witch with a fancy name and nothing else.” Dean pulled over on the side of the road, and shut off the car.

“What are you doing?” Sam sounded pissed, his arms now folded across his chest as he glared angrily at Dean.

“We’re going to spy on him.” Dean said, reaching over past Sam and pulling a pair of binoculars out of his glove box, and on a whim, turned on the police radio as well, filling the car with faint static and the occasional voice.

“Of course we are.” Sam muttered, grabbing his own pair of binoculars and looking towards the house. “I just don’t understand why you don’t trust him. I mean, he took down wards for us. He gave us tea.”

“Look, Sammy, I know you’ve always been a little more trusting of monsters and their human sides or whatever-” Sam winced at this, lowering his binoculars and tossing Dean a look that was half anger and half hurt. “-but when a guy like him, a guy who can do what he can do, ends up in the same town as someone who probably kidnapped a teenage girl and has been slaughtering cattle across the countryside, I find that a little suspicious.”

Sam sighed. “I guess. I just think he seems too… good for that.” Sam shrugged, raising his binoculars once more.

“He’s not doing anything.” Sam said a half an hour later, staring at Castiel’s dark form as he sat in the window, the exact same place the Winchesters had left him.

Dean shrugged. “Stakeouts weren’t built on quick action, Sammy.”

A sudden knock on the Impala’s window made them both jump. They turned, slowly, Sam reaching for the pistol in his jacket pocket, and found Castiel staring at them from the window. The druid waved his fingers in hello, and gestured for Dean to roll down the glass. Sam looked back up to the house, to what looked like Castiel sitting in the window, and was suddenly very confused.

Dean rolled down the window, and they both stared at the druid

“Did you break down?” Castiel asked, leaning down to rest his forearms on the Impala’s door.

“We uh. No.” Dean said, still confused how Castiel could be both here and up at the house.

“We were spying on you because Dean thinks you’re here to kill the townspeople.” Sam blurted out, receiving a glare from Dean and an amused smile from Castiel.

“I know.”

“Then why’d you ask if we were broke down?” Dean asked, tossing his binoculars in the back, the glasses thumping and falling to the floor.

“I wasn’t going to mention you staking out my house if you weren’t.” Castiel said, shrugging. He shifted, and looked further into the Impala. “Can I borrow your binoculars, Sam?” He asked, holding out his hand. Sam handed them over without a word, and shared a confused look with Dean.

Castiel hummed, and set them down. “I see my spell held pretty well.” He commented, seeming pleased with himself.

“So that isn’t you up there?” Sam asked, pointing up to the house. Dean grabbed the binoculars, and pointed them up to the house, where there no longer was a Castiel.

“No, no. Just a particularly fun spell.” He said, laughing at Dean’s confused face as he raised and lowered the binoculars a few times, making sure shadow Castiel really was gone.

“How’d you know we were spying on you?” Dean asked, turning back to Castiel.

“Your engine is particularly loud. It wasn’t too hard to realise you had stopped at the end of my driveway and hadn’t moved for quite a while.”

Dean scoffs. “Baby’s engine is fine, thank you.” He said, settling back in the driver’s seat with his arms folded, refusing to look Castiel in the face.

“If you say so, Dean Winchester.” Castiel said. Sam snickered, and pushed Dean’s hand away when he tried to flick him.

“Jerk.” He said gleefully, pulling a reluctant “bitch” from Dean.

The sudden crackle of the police radio on the dash interrupts their squabbling.

“Turn it up Sam.” Dean said, sitting up and leaning closer.

Sam flicked the knob, the voice of the local sheriff immediately filling the car.

“-another one? How many this time?”

“Four, and they’re pretty bloody sights, Sheriff. Worse than the others, and fresher.” Another voice responds. “Out by the old windmill this time. They look like Jack’s herd.”

“Alright son, well. Take some pictures and call out Rob to go pick ‘em up in the morning. I’ll get Jack on the phone and tell him what happened.”

“Yes, sir.” The radio fell silent again, and the three shared a look.

“Sounds like some more dead cattle.” Sam said after a few tense moments.

“Probably. Should we go check them out?” Dean asked, hand already on the key to start the car.

“I’m going with you.” Castiel chimed, standing up. “And, since it happened while I was talking to you, are you willing to admit I am not the witch you are looking for, Dean Winchester?”

Dean grumbled, and started the car. “Get in, and buckle up.”

“Well, it’s definitely something magic that killed them.” Castiel said, bent over the carcass of the cow. In front of him was one of the four carcasses of the slaughtered cattle, and by far the bloodiest. The entrails were strewed on the ground in front of the gaping stomach, and dark spots of blood pooled in front of the cow, staining the ground. That, though, was the only remnant of blood around.

Dean looked at the cow, and took out his cell phone, flipping open the lid and snapping a picture. “How do you know that?”

“Because I am magic.” Castiel responded, staring at Dean. Dean returned his look with one of his own, one that screamed unamused. Castiel sighed, and continued. “Because there’s a trace amount left over, and I can feel it.”

Dean nodded, not quite understanding how that worked, but willing to go along with it.

He pulls a pair of tweezers out of his pocket and picks of a string of… something, Dean doesn’t exactly want to know what, off the cow, and holds it up, examining it for a second before looking up at Dean. “Do you happen to have a plastic bag?”

“Uh.” He searches his pockets, and produces a wrapper from some fast food chain from his pocket. “Here.”

Castiel looks at it with disdain, before setting both the sample and tweezers in it, and wrapping them up. “When we get back to my house, I should be able to use this to figure out more about the witch and what she wants.”   


“Alright. Anything else you can tell us about it right now?” He asked, glancing over to where Sam was talking to one of the policemen still on the scene.

Castiel nods. “One moment.” He says, before placing his hands on the bloody carcass and closing his eyes, mumbling under his breath.

Dean watches him, curious, but also a little grossed out. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to touch it.

Castiel opens his eyes once more, and wipes his hands on his trenchcoat before standing.

“Well, I can tell you that whoever they are? They’re not a very nice person.”

“You think?” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“I do. That would be why I said it, Dean.” Dean sighed, temper barely holding up against the man. “All magic has a… a signature, of sorts.”

“Really? Can you read it then and tell us who it is?” Dean asked, hoping that for once, it would be that simple.

“It’s not that simple. It’s more like an impression. I can feel that their magic is old. I know the type of spell they used too, but not much more. Magic is far more complicated than you want to give it credit for.” Castiel said.

“You wanna enlighten the rest of us about the spell?” He said, frustrated. Getting information from the druid was like herding cats.

“It’s a power spell.” Sam said, walking up from behind Dean and bending over the carcass of the animal.

“Very good, Sam.” Cas smiled warmly at him, and nodded.

Suck up, Dean thought.

“Sam’s correct. It is a power spell.” Cas pocketed his hands in his trench coat, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, contemplating how best to explain it. “They have kind of a- a bitter taste. Like biting into an unripe banana, I suppose.”

“Cool. Glad to know the next time I bite into a banana, the first thing I’ll think of will be dead animals.” Dean said. “You or nerd boy wanna tell me what exactly a power spell is, since I seem to be the only one who doesn’t know?”

“I’m sure there’s plenty more people in the world-”

“She’s gaining power.” Sam cut him off, standing. “She drains the blood and uses the life force to give herself more power.”

“Great.” Dean groaned. “Could this get any worse? I mean, not only do we have a kidnapped girl on our hands now, but a witch who’s not just killing cattle for fun and games, but to make herself more powerful.” He stalked towards the car, mumbling under his breath.

“It would also lead one to believe she probably has something more planned.” Castiel said, him and Sam following.

“This day just keeps gettin' better and better.”

“You can park closer to the house this time. No need to survey me first.” Cas said, as Dean drove up the drive.

“Shut up.” He growled, putting the car in park. He followed Cas up to the house, and was promptly attacked by a cat.

It wound around his legs for a second, making him trip and stumble into Castiel in front of him, before moving on to Sam. The cat stared up at his brother for a second, and then looked back a Castiel. “I like this one.”

Dean shrieked. “Did that cat just talk?”

Castiel leveled him an unimpressed look. “I’m sure you’ve seen weirder. Gabriel, be good.”

Dean followed Cas into the kitchen, casting glances over his shoulder at the cat who looked to be in a staring contest with his brother. “Why does that cat talk?”

“All familiars talk.” Cas responded, slipping the sample out of his trenchcoat pocket, and tossing the trenchcoat over a kitchen chair.

“What the hell is a familiar?” Dean asked, plopping down in the chair he had occupied previously. “Talking cats… evil witches… I need a beer.” He mumbled, pressing a hand to his forehead and massaging the bridge of his nose.

“They’re like a witches helper, Dean.” Sam sat down across from him, the cat now in his lap. “Didn’t you ever read dad’s journal?”

“I thought you said you weren’t a witch.”

“He’s not.” The cat propped his legs up on the table, tail swishing behind him, and hitting Sam in the face. “Familiars are for more than witches, stupid.”

Dean stared at the cat for a second, before sighing and looking up to the ceiling. “I just got insulted by a talking cat.”

Cas set a beer in front of Dean. and another in front of Sam. “I promise Gabriel will be good.” He said, flashing his familiar a very stern look.

Gabriel hopped up onto the table. “But being good is no fun.” He said, dodging Cas’s hand as the druid tried to scoop him off. “Who’re these bozos anyway?”

Dean made an indignant noise. “Sorry.” Gabriel said. “Bozo and climbing post.”

“Gabriel, please.” Cas said, sounding exasperated. “They’re our guests, and I expect you to treat them as such.”

“Castiel, you’re no fun.” Gabriel lifted himself up and walked over to Dean, contemplating him for a second before speaking. “Maybe you can screw the uptightness out of Castiel, pretty boy. You’re just his type.”

“Oh my god.” Sam said, snorting and muffling his laughter against his hand. Both Dean and Cas went red, and Castiel scooped Gabriel up, and tossed him out the back door.

“I am sorry for my familiar.” He said, rubbing a hand through his hair. “He can be a bit… much, at times.”

Dean shook his head, movements jerky. “That’s uh. Accurate. It’s fine. No worries.” He said, clearing his throat. “Anyway, that sample?”

“Oh! Right!” Cas said, looking grateful Dean had given him an out.

Nice segue, Sam mouthed, and Dean flipped him off.

“Now, I think with a few simple spells, I can find out more about this witch.” Cas said, coming back to the table with a few jars and a mortar and pestle. He set them down, and began moving, hands unscrewing and dumping things into the mortar. “Crush this.” He said, handing Sam the bowl.

“It’s fairly simple. If we mix this,” He said, holding up the sample. “With that, and then do a little magic-” He waved his hand, through the air as he picked up one of the books on the table and flicked it open to a bookmarked page. “We should be able to figure out exactly what spell was used.”

Dean watched him, a little bit curious. He’d never seen magic being done besides the few spells they’d had to do here and there, and the occasional exorcism, but those usually called for a lot more latin and pope’s bones and shit than some herbs. He’d still say that witches were evil and magic was mostly bad, but it was interesting.

Castiel picked up a piece of chalk and began sketching symbols on the table. “What are those?” Dean asked, peering over.

“Runes.” Cas mumbled back, concentrated. He took the finished poultice from Sam and traced over the chalk with it, and then laid the sample over it all.

“Please lean back.” He said, before waving his hand over it. The runes burst into flame, starting red, and changing to a deep blue, before fading out.

Cas ran his finger through the ash left over, and stuck it in his mouth. Dean felt like gagging. Sam seemed interested, leaning forward. “What spell is it?” He asked, looking as if he wanted to stick some in his mouth too. Gross.

“It’s an old one. Gaelic, it would seem.” He murmured, staring down at the ash with a small frown.

“There’s no way you can tell that from burning shit and eating it.” Dean said, snorting. “That’s impossible.”

“You just talked to my cat, and he talked back, and you’re calling this impossible?” Cas gestured at the table. “And anyhow, I can, because I’m familiar with the spell. It’s one druids use, though amplified and changed a bit.”

He tapped his fingers on the table, and frowned some more. “We normally would use this on say, a tree. Something that has a longer life force. And it’s normally something that is only used a little, maybe for a boost.”

“Like an energy shot?” Sam supplied.

“Something like that.” Cas smiled, glad someone understood. “She, and I am confident it is a she, has twisted it to make it more powerful. That’s why she’s been killing, because death is a-”

“Big thing?” Dean said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes. A “big thing.” And a user would get a lot more from killing.” He said, sweeping the ash into a pile.

“So she’s gaining a lot of energy at once.” Sam said, drumming his fingers on his legs. “What for?”

“My guess is that she needs it for a bigger spell.” Cas said, tipping the ash into the trashcan.

“What’s our next step then?” Dean asked, standing a pacing. “If she’d doing something, something that needs a lot of power, that means whatever’s coming is nothin’ good.”

“No. It wouldn’t be.”

“So then what? We just wait for that thing to happen? If you’re telling me we have to be sitting ducks, then I’m gonna tell you you’re full of shit.” Dean pointed at Cas, glaring. “I’m not standing by as some bitch has her wicked way with a bunch of innocents!”

Cas looked a bit taken aback. “I wouldn’t expect you to, nor was I saying this was our last step in the slightest, Dean.”

“Hey, guys.” Sam said, stepping between them. “Dean, I’m sure there’s something we can do. I won’t sit around either.”

“Is there any way you can get me a larger sample from one of the carcasses?” Castiel asked, looking pensive.

“Probably, why?” Sam said, brow furrowed.

“Well, if I were to have a larger sample, I could get familiarise myself with her signature, and then using that, maybe pinpoint at least an area on the map of where the signature is coming from. At least narrow it down.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place then?” Dean asked, exasperated.

“I was trying to.” Castiel responded, frowning at him. “You interrupted me.”

Before Dean could say anything else, Sam nodded, and pushed his brother towards the door. “We’ll get a sample and come back as soon as possible.”

Once they were outside, Sam wheeled on his brother and fixed him with a look. “You need to stop being rude to people trying to help us.”

“I don’t trust him.” Dean responded, folding his arms across his chest.

“He has been nothing but accommodating and nice, even when you decided it was a good idea to spy on him, Dean! You try and tell me for one second you wouldn’t have been pissed if he tried to do the same to you.”

Dean grumbled, but relented. “Fine.”

“Just. Dean. He’s trying to help us. We gotta help him too though.” Sam said, before sighing and walking to the car. “Now c’mon. We gotta go dig around and find out where the carcasses are being held.”

After a quick phone call to the local sheriff’s office, where Sam pretended to be the same FBI agent he was earlier on the field, now looking into the bodies for “connections to other cases,” they found out the carcasses had been sent to the local meat packing plant.

Dean parked the car, and they each grabbed a gun just in case, before walking to the door. The plant was, as expected, empty and dark, and very much locked. These are the kinds of things magic is good for, Dean thought, carefully picking his way through the third lock they had encountered. Harry Potter coulda just Alohamora’d the shit out of this.

Finally they reached the floor where processing was kept. Different kinds of animals hung from largs hooks on the ceiling, and Dean swore when he saw how many there were. “How are we gonna find the right one, Sammy?” He asked, walking along the row of beef.

Sam shrugged. “I guess start at the back. The sheriff said the owner of this place picked up them up from the field not even an hour ago.”

Dean nodded, and they both headed towards the back. Dean was happy to find that they were all sorted by date, and trailed along until he found the shipments beginning with that day. “Sammy, they’re back here!” He called to his brother, sorting through the cows and looking for one that looked more cut up than the rest. Sam joined him a few moments later, and they searched quietly until they found the ones they were looking for.

“Here’s one.” Sam said, and together they maneuvered it off the hook and set it on the ground.

“Dibs on not cutting into it.” Dean said, grinning at his brother when Sam glared at him.

“You’re the worst, Dean.” He said, shaking his head and pulling a knife out of his pocket. He crouched, and began poking around, frowning. “What part do you think he wants?” Sam asked, looking up at Dean.

The elder shrugged. “Take an organ.” He said, leaning back and watching as Sam made quick work of separating the part of the cow they needed.

“I got the heart.” Sam said, holding up a somewhat mangled lump of flesh. He pulled a grocery bag out of his pocket, and dumped it in. “Here.” He said, handing it to Dean.

Dean tied it off and set it on the ground, helping Sam lift the cow back up before grabbing the bag. “That was easy.” He said, wiping off his bloodied hands on his jeans.

“Who’s in here?” A voice echoed through the open floor, and Sam turned to Dean, cursing softly.

“What do we do, Dean?” He whispered, trying to peek around the hanging animals to get a glimpse of whoever was coming for them.

“Do you have your badge?” Dean whispered back, patting his pockets down and cursing when he realised it was in the glovebox.

“No, do you?” Sam asked, looking at him with wide eyes as the voice got closer.

“No. Shit, Sammy, run!” He said, already taking off in towards the back of the plant, where the loading docks were. Sam followed, passing him in seconds.

They skidded to a stop in front of a locked door, and Sam got to picking it immediately, Dean telling him to go faster as the footsteps sounded nearer. If they got caught, they’d be taken into the station, and the police from the field would know they weren’t FBI, and then there would be a whole other slew of problems past just finding a witch.

Sam pushed open the door just as a security guard came into sight. “Hey, get back here!”

Dean pushed past Sam and ran for the open end of the loading dock and hopped out, running around the corner of the building. They ran for awhile, until they were sure the guard wouldn’t catch up, and then stopped, both gasping for breath.

Dean began laughing, leaning against the wall. “Cas is gonna owe us one for that.” He panted out, grinning as he closed his eyes.

“Cas?” Sam asked, and Dean opened his eyes to look at Sam.

“Yeah? What about it?” He said, defensive.

“Just. For someone who claims to hate him, it’s awful nice of you to give him his own nickname.” Sam grinned, and Dean shoved at him.

“Shut up, it’s easier.” He said, rolling his eyes and beginning the trek back to the Impala.

“Because three whole syllables is so difficult.” Sam mumbled, shoving him back as they walked. “Do you still have the heart?”

“Yeah.” Dean said, holding it up. “Right here.”

“Good.” Sam said, taking it from him and looking at it through the plastic. “That was a lot of trouble for a piece of meat.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “I’d say so.”

The drive back to Cas’s house yielded a report of their break-in over the police scanner, much to both of their amusement. The guard hadn’t gotten a clear look at them in the dark, so they were both safe for now, it would seem.

“Here,” Dean said, shoving the heart at Castiel as soon as the druid opened the door. “Hope it works, because we’re not going back.”

Castiel stepped aside to let them in as he looked in the bag. He chuckled, and nodded, heading for the kitchen. “Yes, this will work just fine.”

“What’s so funny?” Dean grumbled, following him.

“Your choice of specimen.” Cas responded, gathering the supplied from the earlier ritual and setting them up on the island in the middle of his kitchen. “Hearts have a strong significance in magic. It was just an amusing coincidence you chose it.”

Dean leaned against the counter. “Whatever. You gonna get on with your magicky stuff or what?” He asked, waving his hands over the ingredients splayed across the counter.

Cas rolled his eyes and set to work mixing a larger batch of the herbs. “Yes, of course. So sorry to inconvenience you.” He rumbled, flicking over the page in the book in front of him and staring at it a second. “Draw these.” He said, handing Dean a piece of chalk and turning the book around so he could point to a series of runes on the page.

Dean stared at the complicated series of figures, and looked back up to Cas. “You sure you want me doin’ this? I could screw it up pretty badly.” He said, twirling the piece of chalk between his fingers. Devil’s traps, summoning sigils, he could do those. These just looked like a second grader took a marker to a piece of paper.

“I have faith in you, Dean Winchester,” Cas said, leaning over the table to read from the book. “Unlike you do in myself. I don’t doubt your ability to draw a few simple lines.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, unsure if the druid was insulting him or not, before setting to work, carefully copying the runes down on the dark wood of the island counter. They worked in silence for a few moments, Cas mixing and grinding, and Dean drawing, hands careful as he drew the runes.

“There.” He said, setting the chalk down and patting his hands free of the dust. Castiel set down his bowl, and came over to Dean’s side.

He hummed tunelessly under his breath as he compared the two sets of runes, and then nodded. “Very good. I told you that you would do fine.” He said, reaching across and grabbing the bowl. He handed it to Dean and smiled. “Now do it again, over the chalk with this.”

Dean grumbled as Cas stepped aside, taking the book with him and setting it on a bookshelf.

“Here.” Dean said a few moments later, drawing Castiel towards him.

“Excellent.” The man said, taking the bowl from Dean and setting it to the side. “Now, if you’ll just back up a bit-” He said, stepping into the space Dean had previously occupied as he rolled up his sleeves. “This will only take a moment.”

Cas placed the heart over the rune work, much the same as he had earlier, before beginning to murmur under his breath, fingers tracing what looked like shapeless figures into the air.

Dean could feel  when something went wrong. The air became thick, heavy and metallic, and Cas froze, before slumping backwards. Dean barely caught him, wrapping an arm around the druid’s shoulders just before he hit the ground, and lowering him carefully down until he was laying flat on the hardwood flooring.

“Sam!” Dean called, cupping one hand around his mouth and calling into the house. His brother came running, Castiel’s familiar hot on his heels.

“What happened?” Sam asked, taking in the scene and crouching down next to Dean. The cat- Gabriel, Dean’s mind reminded him, nosed against Cas’s unconscious form.

“I don’t know. He was doing the spell, and then all of a sudden it just went-” Dean waggled his fingers, a frown tugging at his lips as he tried to explain. “Bad. He passed out.”

“This better not have been your fault, Winchester.” Gabriel, who had hopped up on the counter, glared down at Dean. Dean briefly, very briefly, wondered how cats could glare, before shaking his head. “You better keep him safe, asshole.”

“No. I don’t think it was. He said I drew them right, he-” Dean started, before a groan from Castiel drew all of their attention.

“He’s waking up.” Gabriel hopped off the counter, and got in Dean’s face. “Keep him safe.” That was all Gabriel got out before Cas sat up abruptly, knocking Gabriel off his chest.

“What happened?” He asked, looking around until he found Dean’s eyes.

“You passed out.” Dean answered, leaning in closer to Castiel and setting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Castiel began to nod, before frowning. “No. My magic is… gone.”

“I think something happened to your familiar too, Cas.” Sam said, holding up a much less intelligent looking Gabriel. The cat meowed, and wriggled out of Sam’s grasp to walk away, tail held high.

Castiel watched the cat go, and looked back to Dean like he was about to cry. “What do you mean your magic is gone?” Dean asked, hands gripping the material of his jacket tight, clenching it until his knuckles whitened with the force.

“She took it. When I tried the spell, I heard her. She’s… much more powerful than I am.” Cas said, scooting until he was leaning against the counter.

“Will it come back?” Sam asked, glancing over at his brother. An array of emotions passed over Dean’s face in quick flickers. Anger, confusion, a bit of curiosity and an even tinier amount of concern.

“It should. I’ve depleted myself before, but never to this extent. It will come back though.” Castiel said, eyes closing as he sighed. “I will just need rest, and time.”

“How much time, Cas?” Dean asked, face finally settling on pure frustration.

Cas shrugged half heartedly, looking like he was about to pass out as he opened a weary eye to look at Dean. “A week, perhaps. I can’t imagine it lasting longer.”

Sam shared a look with Dean, both frowning before turning back to Cas. “Why do you think she took your magic, Cas?” Sam asked, offering Cas a hand to stand with.

“As a warning, most likely.” The druid said, taking Sam’s hand and pulling himself up slowly. He slumped against Sam’s side, head dropping against Sam’s shoulder.

“You’re comin’ to the motel with us.” Dean said, standing from his crouch.

“That’s not necessary.” Cas said, waving his hand at Dean and straightening. “I’ll be fine.”

“Your magic is gone, right? Doesn’t that leave you defenceless?” Dean asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, yes.” Castiel said with a frown, as if he hadn’t realised that before.

“So come back with us Cas. We’ll protect you, you can help us with research and rest while you’re doing it.” Sam said.

Cas pursed his lips, eyes darting between the two brothers. “Fine. But we take Gabriel.” Cas said, and Sam laughed.

“‘Course.”

After the pair helped Cas load up some clothing and a few books he insisted on taking, and left Gabriel with enough food for a week before they drove back to the motel.

Dean and Sam lugged all of Cas’s things inside, the druid watching them carefully, too tired to do much else.

As soon as all of his things were inside, Cas headed towards the couch. Dean stopped him, and steered him towards his bed. “You sleep here. You’ll feel better, and heal up faster, right?” He said, taking his hands off of Castiel’s back as the druid collapsed down on the covers.

“Yes I-” Cas yawned, kicking off his shoes and snuggling down into the bed covers. “Thank you, Dean.” He murmured, before passing out completely.

Sam coughed pointedly behind him, drawing Dean’s attention away from the druid’s sleeping form. “What do we do now?”

Dean shrugged, dropping into a chair and sighing heavily. “Wait. Research, scope out the town and look for more information.”

Sam sat opposite of him, and sighed as well. “I hope his magic does come back. We’re kinda screwed if it doesn’t.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I mean, if the witch is this powerful, how the hell are we going to find her? We’ve only dealt with dumb kids who got too far into shit before.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him. “We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

Dean grunted, agreeing, though he was still hesitant. Witches were tricky bastards.

It was agreed upon that one person would stay with Castiel and help research while the other went out into town and tried to find out what the witch could be doing here, or if there had been any other freaky behaviour besides ritual cow murder. Usually Dean got the latter job because he hated research, and Sam loved it more than Dean loved the Impala.

But three days in to Cas’s loss of magic, Sam stole the car keys and left, telling Dean that it was his turn to do the “heavy lifting.”

Dean resented that statement.

He resented it even more when he found out just how quiet Castiel was. The man sat for hours on end, not moving a muscle besides the ones required to turn pages, and didn’t say a word.

Usually he and Sam carried on at least half of a conversation when they were researching, making comments about the text or the translations, or how much they couldn’t wait for the current job to be over.

Needless to say, the silence was killing Dean.

He finally broke three hours after Sam left, his own research bringing him absolutely nothing. He cleared his throat awkwardly to get Castiel’s attention. The druid looked up at him with an arched eyebrow, head lifting from his body’s bent position over the text.

“You’re gonna get back problems if you sit like that for too long.” Dean said, and immediately kicked himself. Now he just sounded like he was mothering the other man.

An amused grin flickered over Castiel’s face. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Dean.” He said, bending back over the text in front of him. Dean watched him read for a second, trying to see what Cas was reading from upside down.

“Is that even English?” He asked, giving up after a few lines. There were strange characters, and he didn’t catch a single word he recognised.

Cas looked up again, this time lifting his body along with his head and frowning. “Ah, no.” He said, seeming to focus intently on the page. “It’s Lepontic.”

Dean stared at him. “What?”

“An ancient language, one of the first druidic ones.” Castiel responded, eyes already ducking back down.

“Where’d you learn that?” Dean asked, honestly curious. He had never even heard of it, and here this guy knew it fluently enough to be able to read it with no trouble.

Castiel hummed, sucking on his lower lip as he thought. “Well, my family mostly, though after I left I picked it back up on my own.”

“Is your entire family like you then?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. My father was, or is, I suppose, I am unsure, the Chief for our family. We were brought up studying druidism.” He shrugged. “I left, so I don’t know how the rest of my siblings turned out.”

“How many is the rest?” Dean asked, wanting to know more now for his own sake.

Castiel smiled bitterly. “I was the youngest of eight. Three of which were my full-blooded siblings, and the others my half.”

Dean whistled. “Did you live in some kinda quiverfull movement?”

Castiel tilted his head, and frowned. “I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean waved a hand. “Nevermind. So why so many kids? Did your dad get a frequent kid having card, every fifth kid is a free puppy or something?”

Castiel snorted. “No.” He said, reaching over and marking his place in his book before closing it. “Druids are a dying race. People don’t believe in us, at least not past the idea that we were a vague historical people before time began.”

“Oh, I get it.” Dean mumbled, nodding slowly. “So you guys, what? Try and have as many kids as possible so you don’t disappear?”

“More or less.”

“Why don’t you just recruit people? Magic isn’t a special thing, I mean. Anyone can become a witch.” Dean said, tapping his fingers against his knees.

“Druids are… different, Dean. We are born this way. We don’t gain our magic from selling our souls or praying to the devil.” He said, smirking. “It’s purer. Cleaner. And dying, of course.”

It made sense, he supposed. Why he had never really heard of a druid before, and why Cas’s magic seemed so different from any magic he had encountered before. “So then why’d you leave? Why not stay, and make more druid-y babies?”

Cas sighed, picking at the edge of the table. “There comes a time when we are asked to make a sacrifice, to whatever god we most align ourselves with.” He began, voice tight. “My father chose my sacrifice to be the cat I had owned since I was eleven. For weeks he dropped hints, saying that I needed to steel myself and that I would become a true druid.

“The day of my sixteenth birthday, he handed me my cat, and an athame, and told me to kill it, or leave.”

“So you left?” Dean asked, frowning. “Why? I mean, couldn’t you have bargained or something?”

“No. With my father, you either did it his way, or no way at all.” Another bitter smile tugged at Castiel’s lips as he tilted his head towards the ceiling. “I was the youngest too, and staying would have meant that I never progressed further than the lowest levels of study. The downside to having so many children, I suppose.”

“What happened after that then?” Dean leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the table. “I mean, did you just up and run?”

“Pretty much.” Castiel answered. “I took the cat, and the athame, and walked out the door. I haven’t seen any of my family since.” He shrugged, sighing softly.

“You deserved better than that, I think.” Dean said, still frowning. “Family shouldn’t do shit like that.” Dean sympathised with Castiel on the whole family thing. His growing up hadn’t been the most…

Castiel laughed. “Of course not. Most families don’t consider ritual sacrifice a part of their daily lives though, however.” He said, tilting his head forward to look at Dean. “What about you, Dean WInchester? I’ve told you my family story, now tell me yours.”

“Sam’s the only family I have left, related by blood.”

Castiel arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. My uh, mom. Died, when I was four. Sammy was just a baby.” He gripped the edge of the table, blunt nails digging into the wood. “Rogue vampire came through, she left the window open. One of those wrong place at the wrong time kinda things. Dad found her as the vampire was leaving. It drained mom of every ounce of blood, and left dad standing in Sam’s nursery with a laugh.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel said, expression sympathetic as he reached over and settled a hand on top of Dean’s.

“S’okay. I don’t really remember her much, besides the occasional flash here and there.” Dean laughed softly, shaking his head. “Sam doesn’t remember her at all, so he doesn’t miss her. And he and dad didn’t really get along too well. Sometimes I think Sam’s glad he’s gone.”

“Why do you think that, Dean?” Castiel asked, head tilted to the side as he looked at the other man.

“Dad was obsessed with finding the vampire who killed our mom. Sold the house and then dragged us all over the country looking for anything to do with it. Robbed Sam of his childhood.”

“Robbed you of yours too, it sounds like.”

“My job was to take care of my brother. S’far more important.” Dean said, eyes flicking over to meet Castiel’s. “Anyway, dad died a few years back. Seventeen years he’d been hunting that thing, and I happened upon it in a bar. Dad saved me just in time, but got a knife to the chest for his effort.”

“That’s… a bit ironic.” Castiel said, shaking his head.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, anyone could die from getting stabbed. It’s just… ironic. Your father spent seventeen years hunting down monsters of all kinds, and he gets taken down by a knife.” Castiel shrugged. “I am sorry for your loss.”

Dean stared at him for a second before chuckling, shaking his head in turn. “No, no. It’s alright. I get what you’re saying, and it’s true. Honestly, with the way he lived, I’m surprised something like that didn’t kill him earlier.”

“Sounds like we both had the short end of the family stick.” Castiel said, smiling at Dean.

“Sounds like it.” Dean said, grinning back and running a hand through his hair. “God. That was the most feelings I’ve ever spat out in one go. Sorry for that.” He said, a bit embarrassed and kicking himself for his “chick-flick” moment.

“It’s really okay. I was none too innocent in that myself.” Castiel said, laying a hand on Dean’s arm and squeezing.

“Cas-”

“Guys!” Sam burst through the door, interrupting anything Dean was about to say. “I figured it out!”

Both men sat back in their seats and flashed twin expectant looks at Sam. “That’s weird.” Sam mumbled, looking between them. “Anyway. So get this.”

He strode over to the table, and set a flyer down. Both Dean and Castiel leaned over to look at it, and only became more confused.

“What does this have to do with a witch?” Dean asked, picking it up and staring at it harder, as if he was trying to figure out what Sam had figured out just by looking at the paper.

It was a flyer for a midsummer festival starting the next week. Dean looked at it, before looking over at Castiel, who shrugged, just as confused as Dean, before staring back up at Sam. “You want to go to a carnival?”

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, taking the last chair and plopping down at the table. “No, dumbass. I mean I figured out why the witch is gaining power and stuff.”

Dean and Castiel stared at him for a few moments longer, before Dean threw up his hands. “You want to enlighten the rest of the class, Sammy? Or do we have to continue to get bits of information that make zero sense one at a time, like we’re pullin’ teeth with tweezers?”

Sam glared at his brother. “I was getting there.” He said, sitting forward and beginning to look through the books. “I found a story in one of the books yesterday, about a woman at a midsummer festival. The translation was horrible, so all I got from it was something about midsummer and returning to avenge someone.” Sam pulled out a thick book with a cry of delight, and flipped it open.

“I was sitting in the parking lot, just watching people and trying to see if any of them screamed witch to me, right, when I saw these guys putting up a banner for the midsummer festival next week.” Sam said, gesturing wildly with his hands while he talked. “Well, then that got me thinking about how a bunch of things always go down on holidays and equinoxes and stuff, and then it jogged my memory for this.”

He flipped the book around to a story in some other language, with an illustration of a pretty black-haired woman next to it. Dean leaned back, angling the book towards Castiel.

The druid studied the story for a moment, before shooting straight up in his seat and looking at Sam with widened eyes. “I know this one!” He said.

“Yeah? Do you think it could have anything to do with our witch right now? Maybe a copycat or something?”

Castiel frowned. “I think this could be our witch. The story is quite similar to what’s happening now.”

Dean looked at the book again. “Tell us it.” He said, shoving the book towards Castiel. “If this is our witch, we need to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Castiel picked up the book, and flipped through the tale quickly. “I understand. I can read it now, but forgive me. My latin is a bit rusty.”

He cleared his throat, before beginning, finger tracing over the letters as he read. “Once, a long time ago, before your father or mine there was a woman.”

Her name was Brónach, and she was as beautiful as the day was long. She was young, and the king, who was cruel and wicked coveted her as his wife. But she was already married, and happily so. She loved her husband, and he loved her, and their marriage was happy. But alas, as not many tales end happily, their marriage was to be broken by the evil king. 

Every year, on the day of midsummer’s eve, the villagers gathered to make a sacrifice to their god, whose name long ago has been forgotten. 

Oftentimes, the sacrifice was an elder, someone whose years would please the gods. This year, however, the husband of Brónach found himself as the sacrifice, as decreed by the king.

The young woman wept when she heard of the news, and begged the priest, who was in charge of such things, to take someone else, anyone else besides her beloved husband. But, the old priest, who was just as wicked as the king himself, said that Brónach’s husband was the only sacrifice that would please the gods the year. He told her she was a selfish woman, putting her love before the safety of the kingdom. 

She went next to the king, and pleaded with him to let her husband go, to take someone else. She offered herself in his stead, for her love was so strong. But again she was denied, told that only her husband’s sacrifice would do. 

The day of the midsummer festival drew near, and she ran out of ideas to save her husband from where he sat in king’s dungeon. She found herself at the old hag’s hut on the edges of her village the day before the festival. 

The hag was rumoured to practice dark magic, to be able to call wild animals to her stead and bend the wills of the universe to her own needs. 

Brónach begged the woman to help her, and the woman, feeling pity for the girl before her, told her that she could not save her husband for he was fated as a sacrifice and it was too soon to find another, but that she could get revenge. 

She gave Brónach a spell that would allow her revenge. Brónach thanked the woman with tears in her eyes, and left. 

She was not a weak woman, Brónach, but she understood that sacrifices must be made, and though she could not break her husband of his bonds to the gods, she could exact punishment on those who placed such bonds on him in the first place. 

The night of the festival, Brónach stayed in, mixing and brewing a foul brew that would give her magic. She killed every cow left by her husband, drawing their blood and drinking their power as the brew allowed, fueling her own dark magic, heart growing blacker with every slaughtered cattle.

She sat in stillness, silence, until the moon was highest in the night sky and the until she felt the tie between her husband and she wither and die. 

She went to the king, was was dancing merry as the altar burned high in the night. She slaughtered his first, spilling his royal blood on the ground, and reveled in the feeling of the life slipping between her fingertips. 

Next she went to the old priest, and slit his throat, and tore his heart from his chest, fingers clenching around the organ as it beat its final beats. 

Though her revenge was exacted, she did not stop there. Her heart was black from sadness and loss, and she wanted more power, more blood spilled on this night. 

For a week, she went from house to house every night, killing every member inside and drawing power from their blood. Her magic grew, until finally she reached the last house, the house of the hag that had given her the spell.

“I would like to thank you, old woman.” She said, holding the old hag’s throat between her hands. “You have given me my revenge, and much more.” 

“You have gone too far, Brónach.” The hag said, staring up into the eyes of the witch. “I curse you, and leave you for a thousand years to live and repent, to spend your days as you were when you came to me, powerless.” 

Brónach laughed, and snapped the hag’s neck, fearing none. But, the old hag’s words held, and Brónach felt the power begin to slip from her body. She screamed, dropping the body of the hag. 

Quickly she worked, the witch, drawing up a brew that would give her back her power, and twist the curse of the woman. In one thousand year’s time, she would remain as a young woman, and only on the midsummer of the thousandth year would she regain her power, and wreak havoc once more. 

With this spell in place, and her magic gone, Brónach disappeared, never to return to the small village. 

Castiel closed the book with a small click, and looked up at the two men.

“You seriously read through that and didn’t think “hey, that’s exactly what we’re going through”? Really, Sam?” Dean said, breaking the silence of the room.

Sam glared at his brother. “It was a myth, and a ridiculous one at that. I thought it was too old to mean anything.”

“We regularly kill things from fairy tales, and you thought this was too ridiculous?” Dean sounded exasperated, staring at his brother in pure bewilderment.

“I didn’t think it was real either.” Castiel interrupted, saving them from any further arguing. “We know what we’re dealing with now, however. I think it would be good if we visited the place where that girl disappeared from, though.”

“Why’s that? She’s probably dead by now anyway.” Dean said, fingers tapping against the table. “I say we just go after the witch and kill her.”

“That won’t be as easy as you think, Dean. Right now, she’s hiding. Waiting until midsummer. We’ll have to kill her then.” Castiel said, sliding the book back on the table. “We need to go to that girl’s house to find out if she is even connected to our witch.”

“She is. We found books, and the window was open when the girl was found missing.” Sam said, frowning. “It couldn’t be anything else.”

“It could be a coincidence.”rdquo; Castiel said, standing up and beginning to pace.

“I doubt it.” Dean mumbled, huffing. “We don’t have the time for this. If it really is going down on Midsummer, then we only have a week. It’ll take two days to drive there and back.”

“Two days that could save us a lot of trouble, Dean. Say she does have the girl. Then we’ll have to be much more cautious attacking her, lest it backfire for us and we lose the main reason we’d begun searching anyway.”

Dean grunted, displeased. “Fine. Get your shit together. We’re roadtripping.”

“My question is why our monster would show up in America anyway,” Dean said, gripping the wheel of the Impala as he drove, eyes scanning the road as they drove. They’d been driving for a solid ten hours now, and three before that, and Dean was glad they were almost to the small town, if not purely because he could stop driving. “I mean, isn’t it from Ireland or something?”

“Most likely, yes. But it’s actually quite common,” Castiel said from the backseat. The druid had slid in without complaint, and hadn’t said much since they started driving. “For several reasons, in fact. One, and the most likely, is that America is easy to hide in. There are so many people here, and so much weird shit happens that more on top of that already in place is easy to hide, or two, because the girl we are going to find drew her here.”

“Why the first and not the second?” Sam asked, twisting around in the passenger seat to look at the druid.

“Because I highly doubt a teenaged girl would draw a thousand year old witch to a tiny town, and even if she did, our witch would not be the only one looking for her.” Castiel tapped on the window, pointing to a house. “Is that it?”

Dean looked at the house to which he was referring, and nodded, pulling over. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Something’s not right about it.” Castiel said, pushing open the door and already striding up to the house before either Winchester could even get out of the car.

Dean jogged up behind Castiel, and caught the tail end of his words. “-for just a few moments, thank you.”

The couple that stood in the doorway that Dean remembered speaking to a week or so back. They looked dazed, and moved to let the trio past, not even looking over the latter two as they entered the building.

“What’s wrong with them?” Dean hissed as they reached the top landing.

Cas turned back to him, and smirked. “Think of it as suggestion magic. I suggested they let us in so we could find their daughter, and they agreed.”

“So you mind-controlled em?” Sam asked, looking at Cas with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation.

“Don’t worry, Sam. It’s only for the most dire of circumstances, and has no ill effect. It’s like hypnosis, but real.” Castiel said as he pushed open the door at the end of the hallway.

It looked the same as it had a week ago, Dean noted. A typical teenage girl’s room, with pink curtains and a few stuffed animals here and there, books scattered across the desk in no particular order.

Castiel, however, wasted no time looking around, and went immediately to the bed. He crouched, and began running his hands over the floorboards, head tilted just so as he searched. Dean and Sam both followed, looking a bit lost.

“What are you doing, Cas?” Sam asked, crouching down as well.

“Looking for something.” Was the druid’s reply, hands still running over the floorboards. He began to press on each crack, and frowned the more he pressed.

“No shit Sherlock. Wanna tell us what exactly you’re looking for?” Dean asked, exasperation coating his tone.

“I don’t know. Something that’s not right, I suppose.” The druid stopped, and began pulling at a specific floorboard, as if trying to lift it up from the floor itself.

“Sam, can you hand me that pen?” He asked, pointing at the girl’s desk.

Sam handed it to him, still confused. “You really think there’s something under there? They looked pretty solid to me.”

Castiel hummed, wedging the pen into the wood. “I know there’s something in here. I just have to-” His hands glowed, and he slammed them down on the top of the pen.

The floorboard bent, and Cas pried it the rest of the way off, revealing a space full of odd trinkets. He began pulling out talismans and bones, and a few other odd items neither Winchester could identify off the top of their heads, before reaching a book. He placed it on the bed, and got up, dusting himself off.

“The girl was involved with the witch.” Castiel said, sitting on the bed and lifting the book onto his lap. He flipped open the cover, and frowned.

Dean tried not to look smug as Castiel confirmed what he had been saying all day. “Told you.”

Castiel flashed him a withering glare, before turning back to his book. He paged through it for a bit, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “This is a very powerful book, druidic in origin.”

He handed it over to Sam before bending over to replace all of the other odd bits and ends back in the hole. “Wait, don’t we need those?” Dean asked.

“No. There’s nothing too special about these. Every witch owns at least one of these items, if not more.” Cas pressed down the floorboard again with a click, and stood. “I think that’s all we need.”

Dean looked once more around the room, before he turned back to Castiel. “You sure? Your spidey senses aren’t tingling for any more black magic?”

Castiel frowned at him. “Quite sure, Dean. Now let’s go, before my suggestion wears off.” He said, taking the book to Sam and striding quickly down the stairs and out of the house.

The brothers followed, marching outside and into the Impala, driving away as fast as possible. Dean could hear Castiel flipping through the pages in the backseat, and decided to pull into the first diner he saw, so that they could have a place to talk, and because he had been driving for thirteen hours straight now, and something to eat sounded really good right then.

They piled out, and seated themselves in a booth as far away from the rest of the building’s occupants as possible. After ordering a round of coffee (and pie, of course, for Dean), Castiel pulled out the book once more.

“I think this was the girl’s book.” He said, tracing his fingertips over the lettering across the page.

“Uh, yeah. We kinda gathered that when we found it under her floorboards, Cas.” Sam said, arching an eyebrow.

Cas sighed, looking between the two with an unamused expression. “I mean, I think she was the only one using it. There’s faint traces of magic left, but only from one person recently.” He said, flipping through the pages.

“Is it anything like the witch’s magic?”

Cas frowned. “It is… like someone forged the signature. So similar that anyone less experienced would think they were the same, but not similar enough to be the same person if you’re looking as hard as I am.”

“So what does that mean?” Sam asked, tracing his finger around the rim of the mug. “Is that bad, or good?”

Cas sighed heavily, closing the book. “It could mean several things, all of which lie somewhere between good and bad. One, she was working alone and it was a coincidence she disappeared. This is highly doubtful, considering her magic is so similar. Coincidences like this don’t happen.”

“Why?” Dean tugged the book over to his side of the table and frowned at the cover.

“Because it’s extremely hard to copy someone’s magic, even for a full fledged magic user.” Cas said, fingers dancing across the table as he spoke. “It’s more likely she was working with someone who could change the tone of her magic imbued on the book.”

“Like a coven?” Sam asked, beginning to follow where Castiel was going with this.

“Exactly like a coven.” Cas smiled at Sam, pleased.

Dean frowned at his brother, and shifted in his seat. “So then we’re looking for a whole bunch of witches?”

“Most likely, yes. But not currently. The bigger problem seems to be our main witch, Brónach.” Cas said, biting at his lip, brow furrowed, before he spoke once more. “I say we kill her, and then go after the coven, find out what they’re doing, get the girl back.”

“You don’t think the whole coven thing is a bigger deal, considering they’re mimicking the magic of a thousand year old murderer?” Sam said, incredulous. “Because that seems like the more pressing problem here.”

Cas looked like he was caught between laughing and frowning. “Well, no. We know what the witch wants. We know when she plans to do something most likely.”

“What if it’s the coven mimicking her entire spell?” Sam asked. “What if she really isn’t back?”

“She’s back.” Cas said, shifting in the hard vinyl booth.

“How do you know that for sure?” Dean asked, setting his fork down from where he had been scarfing down his pie.

“The energy I feel from this book, and the energy I felt when she ripped my power out of me were similar, but not quite the same.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, picking up his fork once more. “Speaking of that,” he said, shoving another forkful in his mouth. “How’re you doin?”

Cas’s lips curled in disgust. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to speak with your mouth full?”

“My parents are dead.” Dean said, shoving in another forkful for emphasis.

Cas watched for a second, before shaking his head, muttering under his breath. “They’re coming back, slowly. I can do basic magic. Summon light, sense energy.” He shrugged. “I’d say another three days, four tops.”

“It better come back by that time. I need you- we need your help with the witch, and midsummer is in five days.” Dean said, pushing his plate away. “Let’s hit the road, get back to town and figure out what else we can before we gank the son of a bitch.”

The other two were in firm agreement, and after leaving payment, all three exited the diner. Dean tossed the keys to Sam and slid into the back. “Drive. I need a nap.”

Sam looked down at the keys in his hand with a wide-eyed expression, before nodding quickly and getting into the driver’s seat like Dean would change his mind if he didn’t do it fast enough.

The ride back was as uneventful as the ride there. Dean slept for a few hours before making Sam pull over so he could drive once more. Cas remained in the passenger side, leaving Sam to cram himself in the back. They bounced ideas back and forth about the witch, and the coven, but didn’t come up with anything else besides what they’d already talked about.

As soon as they were back in town, Dean dropped off Sam and Castiel at the motel, and then drove off to do recon. Sam grumbled, but accepted it, marching back into the room.

“He’s probably going to find a bar somewhere.” He said, tossing his jacket over a chair and cracking open his laptop. Castiel took the seat opposite him.

“Does he do that often?” Castiel asked, setting the book on the pile with the rest they had on the table.

“Often enough, but not so much that it’s anything more than an annoyance when we should be working.” Sam said. “It’s fine though. He’s uh, not much for research anyway. I love him, but I’m surprised he made it as far as he did in school. Dean was built for action, shooting things and running from danger. Not studying and reading until the wick burns out.” He shrugged, typing as he spoke.

“I noticed as much. He got antsy after a while, and we ended up speaking to one another about our lives.”

Sam arched an eyebrow, hands stilling over the keyboard. “Really? What’d he tell you about?”

“Your mother and father, mostly.” Castiel shrugged. “I think he was just evening the playing field between us, since I told him of my family dynamic.”

Sam shook his head. “Dean… doesn’t share like that, not with strangers.”

“Oh? Then am I no longer a threat to him?” Castiel's lips turned up in amusement, remembering the times days previous where Dean had threatened him or grumbled about working with him.

“No. I’d actually venture to say…” Sam stopped, shaking his head and returning to his research. “Nevermind.”

Castile tilted his head. “Venture to say what?” He asked, frowning.

“Well,” Sam trailed off, sucking on his lower lip. “I’d say he trusts you, I guess. Only our closest friends know the whole story with mom.”

Castiel leaned back in his chair, and made a noncommittal hum. “Interesting.” He said, drawing out the word.

They sat in silence, Sam typing, and Castiel across from him, brow furrowed in thought, lips pursed. After a good chunk of time, he sat up, and began paging through books, seeming to have figured out whatever he was thinking so hard about, or deciding to put it off until later.

The room remained silent for a good while, the only sound being that of flipping pages and clicking keys. “Hey Cas?” Sam lifted his head, eyes wide. “Wasn’t there some sort of ceremony in that story? For midsummer?”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes, a midsummer festival. Why?” He asked, though he was already beginning to follow Sam’s trail of thought.

“And there’s a midsummer festival going on in town, right?” Sam asked, already typing away at his computer, looking up any information on the town’s festival the internet had to offer.

“Yes. You don’t think-?” Cas asked, standing and sliding around the table to look at Sam’s screen.

“It says they burn a bonfire at midnight, as a tribute to old festivals. They burn some sort of effigy and then party until morning.” He said, voice building with excitement.

“That sounds extremely similar to the ceremony in the legend.” Cas said, eyes scanning over the page, and nodding. “That’s a better place than any to look for her.”

“I bet that’s where she’ll be.” Sam clicked the laptop shut, and pulled out his phone. It rang for a few seconds, before Cas could hear a muffled hello from the other end.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam said, looking over at Cas as he spoke. “I think we found where the witch is going to be.”

The day of midsummer, the trio decided to show up a little early. One, just in case the witch tried to start her spell earlier than midnight, and two, because it was a carnival, and carnivals were fucking fun.

Sam bitched at first, about it being a job and needing to stay professional, and that getting distracted would do no one any good. Dean fired back that they hadn’t been to a carnival since that rakshasa a few years back, and they hadn’t even been able to enjoy that one, considering they had to be on the lookout for a murderous clown.

This went back and forth, until Castiel piped up and mentioned that if they were there early, he’d be able to get a better hold on the energy of the place and sense when she started up the spell.

Sam conceded, and they found themselves at the carnival early evening, just as the sun was getting low in the sky, with only a few hours left until midnight.

Dean was reminiscent of a child in a candy shop, eyes wide as they entered the front gates after paying for their tickets. He was practically vibrating with restrained energy, rolling back and forth on his heels as the trio contemplated where to go first. “Dude.” He nudged Sam with his elbow, looking up at his younger brother as he did so. “Dude.”

“What?” Sam asked, frowning and nudging him back. “What’s your problem?”

“There’s so much food here.” Dean replied, grinning. “Let’s get cotton candy. We haven’t had cotton candy in forever.”

“Child.” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes and acting annoyed, but the smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips, betraying him. “Yeah, fine. That okay with you, Cas?”

The druid had been watching Dean with an almost fond looking smile before Sam’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “It sounds fine to me.” He said, nodding.

They wandered off in search of cotton candy, Dean stopping every few feet to comment on something he’d seen, or something he wanted to do.

They finally secured cotton candy for Dean, and Sam bought himself some kettle corn as well (“It’s healthy, Dean!” “It’s an abomination is what it is, Sammy.”), and off they were again.

“How many years has this festival been going on, Cas?” Sam asked, popping a few kernels in his mouth as they walked.

Cas shrugged, reaching over and stealing a piece of cotton candy from Dean. Dean flashed him an indignant look, and switched it to his other hand, glaring at Cas while he continued to eat it. Cas swallowed the piece, and frowned, noticing Dean had moved the treat away from him. “I don’t know.” He said, wiggling his fingers in the candy’s direction.

Dean huffed, and moved it closer, letting Cas take another piece, albeit with a very sullen expression. “I’ve only lived here for a few years. It’s been going on since before then, at least.” He said, shooting Dean a pleased expression.

“Oh really? I guess I just assumed you grew up here or something, with all the papers and stuff we found on you.” Sam said, looking a bit sheepish at the admission that Dean and he had researched Castiel.

Castiel didn’t seem to mind too much, however, outright laughing at Sam’s statement. “Yes, well, those are fairly easy to manipulate. Some of them, the most recent ones, are true. But the older ones are all fabrications, just in case.”

“In case of what?” Dean asked, mouth full of sugar, so that the question came out as more “‘N caysh f’wt?” than any actual words.

Castiel seemed to understand all the same, shrugging with a small, bitter smile. “In case my family ever found me. If they looked me up, they’d see someone who’s grown drastically from the son they knew, and with a different last name and a past that doesn’t match up with their own timeline.”

“Wait, Novak isn’t your real name?” Dean asked, swallowing and looking a bit confused. “Well, what is it? And why’d you choose such a weird alias?”

Castiel huffed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t talk about weird aliases, Detective Young.” He said, stealing the last of the cone from Dean and gulping it down before the other man had a chance to stop him.

“Hey!” Dean said, gaping at the now clean cardboard. “Jerk.” He mumbled, pocketing his hands.

“It’s Milton, my last name. I had a friend when I was younger. His last name was Novak.” He said, shrugging and waving his fingers over the cone, making more cotton candy appear. He took a bite, and handed it back to Dean, whom looked like he had just been given the answer to the meaning of life.

“Milton, huh?” Sam said, nodding slowly. “So has it worked? Any of your family found you so far?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, my cousin Balthazar a few years back.”

“Dude, do any of your family members have normal names?” Dean said, snorting.

Castiel chuckled, shaking his head. “I suppose not many. My eldest brother’s name was Michael, and I had a half-brother named Raphael, but other than that, none of us were named extremely conventionally.”

“Kinda makes our family sound boring, eh Sammy?” Dean said, tossing the once again empty cardboard into a trashcan as they passed by. “All we got are a lot of Samuels and Marys and Tylers and stuff.”

“I suppose so.” Sam replied. “Hey, look.” He stopped, and pointed to a colourful tent. “A psychic.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up, and he looked over. “Let’s go see if she’s real.” He said, already striding in the tent’s direction. Sam and Dean shared a look, before shrugging and following.

Castiel was seated across from a plainly dressed woman when they pushed back the flaps of the tents. They took the other seats, and she turned towards them.

“I knew there’d be more of you.” She said, smiling. “Name’s Pam.” She said, holding out her hand. “I take it you’re Dean, and you’re Sam?” She asked, pointing to each of them in turn.

“Did Cas tell you?” Sam asked, looking over at the druid. He shook his head, and shrugged.

“She knew my name too.”

Pam cracked her knuckles, and leaned back in her chair. “That’s ‘cuz I’m the real deal, baby. Now, what are two hunters and a magic man doin’ in my tent?”

The Winchesters shared another look, before Sam shrugged. “Here to get our fortune’s told, I suppose.” He said. “Can you do it?”

Pam snorted. “‘Course I can.” She said, shaking her head. “What kind of psychic would I be if I couldn’t. Now, stick out your palms boys.” She said, waving her hands to gesture for them to set their hands on the table.

She hummed for a second, tracing the lines on all three of their hands carefully. “I see.” She murmured, leaning back and rapping her knuckles on the table softly.

“Well, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it for you, since you know I’m the real deal anyway. Whatever you’re plannin' tonight? Be careful. Specially you.” She said, pointing at Dean and leaning forward. “All that bravado isn’t gonna keep you alive, honey. You got a good brother, and a good man here. Use ‘em.”

Dean shook his head. “Cas isn’t my man. We’re just working together for this case.” He said, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Castiel and catching the other staring at him intensely.

“Uh-huh.” Pam leaned back in her chair with a smirk. “Whatever, Winchester. You just keep yourself safe, for the good of us all.” She stood, and walked over to the door, holding the flap open.

“Now all of you, out of my tent. I got other people needing me, and you’ve got a job to do.” She said.

They stood, and filed out. Sam thanked her, as did Cas. She stopped Dean, and whispered in his ear. “You be careful, alright? Don’t let that ego get in the way. They’d miss you.”

Dean nodded slowly, brows furrowed as he looked at her. “Alright. Thanks, I guess.”

She nodded, and patted his ass as he passed. “You come back now, sometime, alright?” Dean jumped, and glared behind him, but she had already disappeared back into her tent.

The mood between the three was more somber now than it had been ten minutes previous. No careful warning from any psychic was something to take lightly, even if neither Winchester fully believed in it. They carried on, walking through the rows of tents in silence, until Dean stopped, bumping into Sam with his shoulder. “Look!” He said, pointing to just over the top edge of the nearest tent.

“What?” Sam asked, craning his head to get a look. “The Ferris Wheel?”

Dean nodded. “Let’s ride it. One last hurrah, before we go into battle with a thousand year old witch.”

Sam snorted. “Alright. But we’re not going to die. We can ride Ferris Wheels again.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah.’ He said, before taking off in the direction of the carnival rides. Sam flicked his eyes over to where Castiel had been, but found the druid already following Dean.

Sam sighed, and followed after, striding to catch up. He got there just as Dean was getting in line, somehow having already bought enough ride tickets for the three of them.

“You’ve never been on a Ferris Wheel?” Sam heard Dean exclaim, hands waving through the air as he stared at Cas. “You’re kidding.”

The druid shook his head. “I’ve never been to this carnival either. I don’t have people I would go with.”

Sam clapped a hand on Cas’ back and grinned at him. “You’ll have fun. It’s always been me and Dean’s favourite ride.” He said.

Cas smiled up at him. “I’m sure I will. It sounds fun enough.”

“It’s great!” Sam tuned Dean out as he rambled to Cas about Ferris Wheels, choosing instead to look around. He spotted a girl in the line ahead of him, standing next to a couple. She looked a bit bored, casting her companions half-glares every once in awhile as the line moved slowly forward. He slipped past Dean and Cas, now arguing about… something to do with book characters, and tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, expression annoyed before she caught sight of him. “Oh. Um, hi?” She said, tilting her head and smiling at him.

“Hey. I’m Sam.” He said, holding out a hand.

She took it, and shook his hand firmly. “Hi Sam. Sarah.” She let go, and tucked her hand back into the fold of her arms. “So, are you here with anyone, Sam?”

Sam jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Yeah. Those two.” He nodded his chin towards the couple she was here with. “They here with you?”

Her nose wrinkled, and she nodded. “Yeah. President of the third wheel club here, I guess.” She said, laughing.

He laughed as well. “I understand completely. Fellow member here.”

She peeked around him, and her face softened. “They’re cute. Not obnoxiously public. I’m jealous.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Oh, uh, no. I didn’t mean it like that. They’re just friends.”

She arched an eyebrow, looking at Dean and Cas behind him. “Coulda fooled me, I guess.” She shrugged. “Oh well. Hey, you interested in joining me in a booth. Promise I don’t bite, unless you’re into that.” She said, winking playfully at him.

He laughed and shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”

Dean piled Cas into an empty booth, and slid in across from him. The Ferris Wheel carts were the smallest he’d ever seen, and he and Cas barely fit, knees brushing with every jostle of the ride. Cas looked around the booth, eyes lighting up when it finally moved to let in the next set of people.

“Does it ever go around fully?” He asked, looking at Dean.

“Yeah, once everyone gets on.” He responded, leaning back against the wall of the booth and throwing his arms out to the sides, resting them on the wall as well. “It’s fun, I promise.”

Castiel nodded, looking out the side of the booth once more. Dean turned around, arching until he could see his brother in a cart a few above them with a pretty, dark-haired girl. He grinned when Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bending to whisper something in her ear that made her laugh as the wheel began to move once more, putting them at the very top.

“Hey, Cas, Sam found himself a girl.” He said, turning around. “Looks like we’ll…” the rest of his sentence died in his throat as he caught Cas staring at him.

The others eyebrows were furrowed, lips turned up at the sides in the smallest of smiles. Dean held his gaze, and found himself leaning in. He hadn’t noticed how bright the druid’s eyes were before, and how nice of a blue they were. Cas seemed to be leaning in too, eyes flicking over Dean’s face as his tongue ran along the ridge of his bottom lip.

Just as they were centimetres apart, the cart began to move once more, causing them to smack their heads together. They groaned, each rubbing at their foreheads and leaning back against the cart as the moment was cut short.

Dean laughed, and shook his head, mentally blaming the long week for whatever had just happened, and the odd sense of disappointment he felt in his gut.

The rest of the ride was quiet, Castiel looking out the window and Dean watching Sam flirt with the girl. They got off the ride, and waited for Sam, standing to the side of the wheel. Neither of them said anything, and Dean regretted whatever had just happened. He had mistrusted Cas a few days ago, yes, but now it was weird for them not to talk. Cas provided such decent conversation, and Dean had found himself having fun getting to know the druid and talking to him about whatever came to mind, even if he did try and steal Dean’s cotton candy.

Sam’s cart finally reached the bottom, and Dean watched as his little brother exchanged numbers with the girl, before striding over to them.

“Have fun with your new girlfriend?” Dean teased, smirking at Sam.

Sam shrugged. “Not my girlfriend, but fun anyway, yes. Have fun with yours?”

Dean frowned, and glanced over to Cas. “Shut up Sammy.” He mumbled, walking away with his hands deep in his pockets.

“What crawled up his ass and died?” He heard Sam ask, but didn’t catch Cas’s response.

“We have ten minutes.” Dean jumped, whirling around to face Cas.

“Jesus, man. Warn a guy before you sneak up on him like that.” He said, pulling his hand off of his knife and out of his jacket.

Cas stepped back. “Sorry. We have ten minutes.” He repeated, looking around the crowd of people by the bonfire. The druid avoided his eyes, and Dean regretted more whatever had happened in the Ferris Wheel, because if he was about to die like he very well could, he wanted his last moments to be as awkward free as possible.

“I know. Has she started anything?” He asked, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet as his eyes darted around the perimeter of the crowd he could see.

Cas shook his head. “No. I don’t feel anything.” He shifted, craning his neck to see over the heads of all of the people and to the podium in the middle of the pile of wood. “She’s not going to be in this crowd. She’ll be somewhere else, probably in an empty tent. She won’t want to be seen.”

“I figured. Tell me if you start to feel anything, okay?” He said.

“Of course. Call for Sam and I if you see anyone suspicious.”

Dean nodded, and Cas slipped away, blending into the crowd almost immediately.

Dean frowned, continuing to circle the growing mob of people, staring hard at each woman that passed, as if he could read their minds to find out who was thinking about murder. He caught someone out of the corner of his eye, and watched a young girl slid towards the tents a few dozen yards away. He narrowed his eyes, and followed, hand already gripping the knife in his jacket. He considered calling Sam and Cas, but decided against it. He’d call the cavalry when he was positive that he had found the witch. Besides, this girl had looked far too young to be a thousand years old.

He followed the girl, and clapped a hand over her shoulder, turning her around, ready to stab if necessary.

The girl was the same one from the alley a few weeks ago, and he sighed. “You again? You know, drugs rot your brain kid.” He said, hand pulling away from his knife. “I nearly stabbed you.”

The girl’s eyes widened, and she let out a half whimper, stepping back from him. “Please leave me alone, sir. I don’t want any trouble.”

He raised his hands by his sides. “Sorry. Go… sell your mary john or whatever.” He said, gesturing for her to go.

“Stupid hunter.” She mumbled lowly as he turned to walk away.

He stopped from where he had been walking back towards the group, and turned back around. “What was that?”

“Uh. I didn’t say anything.” She said, shaking her head furiously.

He strode forward, and pushed her against a canvas wall. “Who are you?”

She looked frightened for a moment, before realising he wasn’t giving in, and sighed. She straightened, waving her hand and making Dean fly backwards and crash into the ground. He struggled, but found himself trapped on the ground, like he was bound.

“My gods, you guys are like rats. Always everywhere and in everyone’s business.” She scoffed, sneering at him.

“You look pretty young for a thousand year old hag., you know.” He said, fingers grasping for his pocket, but finding it too far away. He just prayed Sam and Cas would realise he was gone.

She spat at his feet. “First you almost ruin my plans with your meddling, and now you insult me? That’s some brass you’ve got, hunter. You know how far your little druid boy set me back in the alley? Days, hunter. I’m lucky I could borrow his magic for a little bit to get me back on track.” She laughed, dusting herself off of imaginary dirt.

“My act in the alley? You’re the one who told me people said I’d be here, and tried to sell me drugs!” He said, struggling. “You’re the one who put on an act.”

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “And you were the one dumb enough to fall for it. Do you not realise when people are lying to your face, or are you just stupid?” She eyed him critically for a second, before snorting. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was both. And they told me you were some sort of amazing hunter. Please, any idiot dumb enough to fall for teary eyes and a trembling lip isn’t good, he’s just lucky.” She said, stepping closer to him.

“And that little druid friend of yours, too. I wasn’t even at half my strength, and he couldn’t detect the weakest of wards I put around myself as disguise. I hope you know better magic users than that, hunter.”

Dean glared up at her. “Shut the hell up.”

“Ooh, testy.” She grinned, and winked. “Cute. Too bad he isn’t here. A sacrifice like you two would be so, so sweet.” She sighed, and stepped over him, pacing across the small clearing between the tents.

“I know you’ve been searching for me for awhile. Does it hurt to be this close and lose? I mean, your friend’s trick with the search? That was good. And you’ve been chasing all over this town.” She pulled out a long dagger (athame, his mind supplied), and tapped it against her palm as she paced. “And then you went to my house, of all places, and found my book.”

“Wait, your book? You’re the kidnapped girl?” Dean asked, confused.

The witch looked down at him, and shook her head slowly. “No? Was there a kidnapped girl?”

Dean frowned. “Yeah. In… your house? You were kidnapped by a witch who’s name I can’t pronounce from like, a thousand years ago.”

The witch burst into laughter. “You’re quite stupid, you know that?” She said, shaking her head as her laughter died down. “Your kidnapped girl and I are one in the same, hunter.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he stared at her. “They were one of many in a line of surrogate families who housed me until the day I could regain my power. I left when I felt the tiniest tendrils of it come back. I thought I’d come back for the book, but I suppose I’ll just have to retrieve it when you and your druid are dead.”

“I take it there’s no coven either then?” Dean asked, frowning. Cas had been horribly wrong, but Dean couldn’t blame him. This witch seemed like the trickiest they’d ever dealt with, and he’d been pretty wrong about some stuff too.

“A coven?” The witch tilted her head back and cackled, sending chills down Dean’s spine at the sound. “Wherever you’re getting your information is horrid. I work alone, as it should. As if any other could even match half of my power.”

“But- but Cas said your magic and the magic in the book wasn’t the same!” Dean sighed, and struggled against his magical bonds. Maybe if he could keep her monologuing, Sam and Cas could come and find him.

“That’s because it was mixed with his borrowed power, and my magic wasn’t up to par quite yet. It still lacked the final kick.” She said, bending over him and trailing the knife over his torso. “Where should I cut you that it’d hurt the most? The heart?”

The knife hovered over his heart, spinning through her fingertips as it dangled in slow, lazy circles, before she shook her head and moved it. “No, no. Too quick and easy for someone who’s been interfering in my plans for weeks. The lungs, perhaps?”

She cackled, and drug the knife down his shirt, popping open the buttons. She pressed a bit with the knife, and Dean could feel it beginning to draw blood. He winced, and prayed she decided against that one too. If he was gonna get stabbed by a crazy bitch, then he’d rather not get a punctured lung out of the deal too. Those hurt like a motherfucker. “No. I don’t want to hear your disgusting breathing as you whine and beg for me to kill you and end your misery. The stomach, perhaps? They say it takes fifteen minutes to die of a stomach wound, and that it’s so very painful.” She mocked a pout, lifting the knife off of his lungs.

She moved the knife to the center of his torso, just south of his ribcage, and nodded. “Yes. It’ll take long enough, and leave you such delicious pain.” With one quick motion, she drove the knife into him. He began to scream, and she silenced him, wagging a finger. “Ah, ah, ah. None of that now. You’re lucky you even get to be my sacrifice, hunter. Take it as an honour. I wouldn’t choose just any ol’ human to kill for my power.”

Dean sucked in air through his teeth, breathing as well as he could and trying to get himself past the pain. You’ve had worse, Winchester, man up, he thought, balling up his hands and pressing his nails into his palms.

“Why- why’d you want to do this again?” He stuttered out, wishing his hands were free so he could at least staunch the flow of blood.

She shrugged. “Why not? World domination on its own is a good reason. Gods know this world needs a reboot.” She stood, and wiped her hands of his blood on his shirt, sticking the knife in the ground next to him. “Maybe I got sick of people forgetting my myth, forgetting my part of the world even existed for anything but leprechauns and unicorns. Maybe I want revenge.”

Dean coughed, feeling blood on his lips. “So what? First time for love, second time for revenge? Is that your game? You know, I almost respected you for the first time. The whole wanting revenge for a loved one shtick? I could get behind that. Too bad you’re so goddamn crazy.” 

Her face curled into an ugly sneer, and she kicked him, growling. “I don’t need the respect of some smarmy hunter pretty boy.” She said, reaching down and pulling her athame out of the ground.

“Maybe you don’t need respect, but you do need a bullet in the head from one.” Dean looked up and felt relief pour through him at the sight of Sam. His brother fired one shot into the witch’s head, and she collapsed to the ground.

Dean felt the magic that bound him disappear, and he lifted himself up, feeling Cas come to his aide and wrap an arm around his waist. “If I wasn’t bleeding out,” he said, pressing a hand to the hole in his stomach. “I’d almost hate you for that line.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, whatever Dean.” He said, rolling his eyes. Just as he was re-holstering his gun, a loud groan filled the clearing.

“Ow, fucking hunters.” The witch sat up and glared, snapping her fingers and sending Sam careening into the nearest tent. She stood, and wheeled around on Cas, hands raised as crackling light twirled between her fingers.

“Really, boys? I’m a thousand years old, and you think a bullet is gonna stop me?” She threw back her head and laughed, stepping closer. “It’s not gonna be that easy for you.”

“It won’t be that hard either.” Cas said, holding up his hands and mumbling under his breath. Flames began to lick through his fingers, and he threw them at her, the fire clinging like a second skin as soon as it touched her2.

She screamed, fire running up and down her body, her skin bubbling and boiling as she collapsed to her knees. She was gone in seconds, the only remnant a pile of ash that was scattered in the grass.

Dean stared at the pile of dust for a second, before coughing and looking over at Cas, feeling his vision getting darker. “Well, that was anticlimactic.” He said, before slumping to the ground.

Dean awoke with a pounding headache. He cracked his eyes open, and closed them almost immediately, slapping his hand over his face to shield himself from the blinding light coming through the curtains.

He took a second to enjoy how the relative darkness of his hand soothed his headache just a bit, before opening his eyes once more, albeit slower, letting himself adjust. He felt achy, and sore, especially in the middle of his chest where the witch had stabbed him.

Oh fuck, he had been stabbed. It wasn’t a bad dream like he had hoped. He opened his eyes fully, and rubbed at his stomach, feeling the distinct absence of any gauze, or bandage, or anything really except for smooth skin.

“Am I dead?” He asked to the open air, frowning.

“I should hope not. I would have wasted a good amount of time healing you.” Dean’s head snapped up, the rest of his body following along, to find Cas propped up in a wooden chair next to his bed. The druid had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair looked like it had been styled with a vacuum cleaner, sticking up in a multitude of directions, different from his normal look.

“Hello Dean.”

“Hey.” Dean said, smiling at his friend. The druid smiled back and stood up. He went over to a small table in the corner, and Dean could hear faint clinking from across the room. “You did this? Fixed me up, I mean.”

Cas turned his head back, and nodded. “I did. You almost died, too. We’re lucky we killed her just in time. A few more minutes, and I couldn’t honestly say you would have survived. You’ve been out for a few days now, and we started to worry for a while there.”

Dean laid back against the headboard, and watched Cas, absently rubbing at the spot where a few hours previous there had been a hole. “Thanks for doing that. You, uh, didn’t have to.” He mumbled, frowning.

Cas came back over to him with a mug in his hands, and a frown on his face. “Of course I did.” He said, handing the cup to Dean. “Drink, please.”

Dean obeyed, taking a small sip from the cup. His lips curled back in disgust, and he went to complain, before shying away at the stern look on Cas’s face and drinking the rest down in silence. He gave the cup back to Cas, and fiddled with his fingers as the druid busied himself.

“I mean. I kind of… wasn’t too nice to you. Before the last couple days. I broke into your house and accused you of kidnap.” Dean chuckled bitterly. “If I was in your place, I don’t know that I’d do the same for me.”

“Good thing you weren’t then, huh?” Cas said, sitting back down in the chair next to Dean. “I forgive you Dean.” He said.

They stared at each other for a few moments, before Cas spoke again. “I get it, you know. Why you’d hate me, magic as a whole. If I’d only dealt with the bad side, I’d hate me too.”

Dean shook his head and leaned forward on the bed, smothering a wince at the small twinge of pain in his abdomen from the movement. “I don’t hate you. Not anymore. I think your magic is pretty cool.” He said, grinning. “I mean, not anyone can figure out how to kill a thousand year old witch under pressure, and even fewer with a cool one liner to boot.”

Cas looked embarrassed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, someone had to do it.”

“Thanks for that, too, by the way.” Dean said, scooting forward and swinging his legs off the bed so he was better facing Cas.

Cas leaned in as well, smiling. “Anything for you, Dean.” He murmured, meeting Dean in the middle and making their legs fit together.

Dean stared at him, eyes searching the other’s face. He was so close all of a sudden, and Dean felt a little weird, but in an oddly good way about the druid being that close to him.

Cas leaned in further, and pressed a light kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth. Dean froze, eyes widening as Cas pulled back.

The smile fell from Cas’s face, replaced with a mixture of horror and embarrassment. “Oh, god, I’m sorry I thought- I mean- I’ll just.” He stood and stepped back.

Before he got any further, Dean stopped him, catching his wrist, and standing as well. “No, I. It’s okay. Sit, please?”

Cas nodded jerkily, and they both sat once more. Cas twisted his hands together in his lap and avoided Dean’s gaze, lips pursed together and downward. Dean took a moment to watch, before clearing his throat and setting a hand over Cas’s own, stilling their movements.

“Look, I think I like you.” At Cas’s incredulous expression, he continued, talking as fast as possible as if Cas would leave were he not to get the words out fast enough. “You make me all… weird, inside. You make me think things like how clear your eyes are, or notice that you look like you haven’t slept in weeks, and that’s weird, for me. Not bad, just. Not normal.” Dean shrugged.

Now Cas just looked confused, staring at Dean with a twisted expression. “I’m… Sorry?”

Dean chuckled, and shook his head. “No, don’t be. I’m just a hesitant to, you know, do anything because we never stay in one place very long, you know? And you’re better than a one night stand, I guess.” He shrugged.

Cas began to laugh, biting at his lips when he noticed how angry Dean looked. “I’m s-sorry. It’s just, you’re so earnest.” His eyes brightened, and he leaned forward, hooking their hands together. “Sam invited me along with you guys. He said it would be good to have someone like me on your side. We were going to ask you together about it after you woke up.”

“He did?” Dean asked, a bit taken aback. “I’d lo- really enjoy if you came. But what about your house? Your life here? Gabriel? I mean, I’m sure Sam’d love someone to argue with, but our life isn’t the most pet friendly.”

“Gabriel isn’t a pet, and he thinks it’s a fun idea too.” Cas said, squeezing Dean’s fingers. “And this was never going to be a permanent home for me anyway. Sooner or later I’d have to move, when my family found me. With you and Sam, I would be less in danger of that anyway.”

Dean smiled at Cas, and leaned forward, bumping their foreheads together. “I’d love that then. Sign me up.”

They stayed for the rest of the week, packing up Cas’s belongings and putting them in storage, and tying up a few loose ends. Monday morning, a week and two days after midsummer, with Dean completely healed, they headed out.

Sam had been kicked to the back seat with Gabriel, to which he had protested, until Dean threatened to only play the most obnoxious music he could find for the entire nineteen hour drive to their next job. Sam got in the back, albeit with much grumbling and complaining about brothers being more important than boyfriends.

Gabriel was allowed to ride free, as long as he promised to keep his claws to himself.

And finally they were off, leaving the small house Cas had called home for years behind them.

“Hey, climbing post.” Gabriel butted against Sam’s leg, sitting back on his haunches to stare up at Sam.

Sam heard his brother snort from the front seat, and glared, before looking back down at the familiar. “What, Gabriel?”

“Who’re you talking to?” The cat inclined his head towards the phone in his hand, the same one he had been checking every few seconds or so.

“No one.” Sam hissed, hoping Dean hadn’t heard.”

No such luck. “Sammy’s probably talkin' to his new lady.” Dean sing-songed from the front, grinning at his brother in the rearview mirror.

Sam flushed, and flipped Dean off. “Shut up. At least she’s normal.”

Cas huffed. “I am offended you don’t find me normal. I might just be offended enough to call for a woodland creature conference to your bed tonight, Sam.”

“See? That! That is not normal.” Sam said, loud enough to be heard over Dean’s loud laughter.

Gabriel slunk closer, and hopped up in his lap, butting at his hands until he could see the screen of Sam’s phone. “Ooh. Someone’s getting a little steamy.”

“Shut up, Gabriel.” Sam said, pushing at the cat, who dug his claws into Sam’s legs.

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam argued with the familiar, and tuned them out as he turned his attention to Castiel in the passenger seat. “You sad at all to leave this place?”

Castiel shrugged, eyes following the passing treeline. “I never had any particular attachment to this town anyway. It was just another stop, I suppose. Besides,” he said, turning to Dean and smiling, reaching over to twine their fingers together. “I think there’s something I could get more attached to anyway.”

Epilogue- One Year Later

“You know, no matter where we go, the cotton candy here will always be my favourite.” Dean said, tossing the empty cardboard cone (of which Castiel had refilled multiple times) into the trash.

“Oh?” Castiel said, attention more on Sam and the dark haired girl he had met last year in front of them.

“Yeah. Hey, you know what else we should do?” Dean said, nudging at Cas and waggling his eyebrows. “Ferris Wheel Sex.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “That’s disgusting. You know how many germs there would be on those seats, Dean Winchester?”

Dean snorted. “So if it was clean, you’d be okay with it?”

Castiel smirked, shrugging. “It would be something new to add to the list.”

Dean laughed, and shook his head. “Come on. We still gotta ride it anyway. I distinctly remember not getting a kiss last year, and that needs to be rectified.”

They made their way through the line, and on to the ride, squeezed into one side. Dean’s arm was thrown around Castiel’s shoulder, and the druid was leaning into him.

“You know,” Cas started as they reached the top, eyes looking out into the park below. “Even though we face miraculous, and dare I say, magical things every day, sunsets will always be one of my favourite things. They’re beautiful.”

Dean stared at Cas, fond smile on his lips. “I love you.” He said, before he could stop himself, and felt his heart sink into his stomach. They had only been “official” for a few months, and neither of them had said the dreaded words yet, and Dean definitely did not plan on saying them so spontaneously and… so not opportune.

“Shit, I-” Cas silenced him with a kiss, and shook his head.

“I love you too, Dean Winchester.” He said, and Dean was soothed, smiling back.

“Sorry for the bad moment.” He mumbled, closing his eyes as Cas rested against him.

“It was good. I couldn’t have asked for any better.” Cas said.

Most times, his life sucked. Between having to kill monsters for a living, almost dying on the regular, and trying to keep up a healthy relationship in the midst of it all, it started to feel like a lot to carry and he absolutely hated it some days.

But other times? Other times, it was fucking perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> The art for this story can be found [here!](http://truthismusic.livejournal.com/22830.html) It's super adorable and I'm really glad I got the chance to work with someone so awesome. Go check it out!
> 
> UNIVERSE ALTERATIONS:  
> Mary was killed by a vampire, and John was stabbed and died. So basically, instead of Azazel, which led to angels and demons and leviathan and shit, it was just a vampire. 
> 
> So there’s no demons in this universe, and witches get their power through murder and violence and such, as compared to druids who get theirs because they were born with it and train their entire lives, and draw from more positive things. Witch power depends on the negative energy they can create to fuel their spells, and druidic power depends on what the person was born with and how willful they are, I guess. 
> 
> I want to thank the TFWBB admins for the opportunity, as well as [Anna](http://truthismusic.livejournal.com/), the wonderful person who did art for this story. I would have never written this or finished it if it wasn't for the challenge.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. Until next time!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://goddammitdylanobrien.tumblr.com/)


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